


Mask

by Papallion



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blind Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison, Don’t copy to another site, Found Family, M/M, Mild Language, Reconciliation, mild body horror, robo-camels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-27 02:36:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19781506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Papallion/pseuds/Papallion
Summary: While working with Ana in Egypt, Jack and Reaper cross paths.  Will they continue fighting, know who they are?  Written for the magnificent art of Shevaara for the 2019 Reaper76 Reversebang





	Mask

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my beta readers, Rhysx and Passeridae, both are amazing! 
> 
> and the link to the art
> 
> https://66.media.tumblr.com/4a3446f653883eb5986b2ddc6c34f98f/tumblr_pujk4pLFEq1tam1h8o1_540.jpg

It was finally dark, and Ana sighed as the heat slowly started to ease up. She enjoyed the breeze while it lasted, since by the time the city cooled down, the sun would be up again. After a few minutes she went back inside to check on Jack. 

He was stretching, groaning as he rolled his shoulders and twisted his waist. “Is it dark now?” he asked as Ana entered the room. “I’d like to go for a run.”

“No, I think not,” she said sharply. “There's something I need to do while you rest.”

“Track down and hand in Hakim?” he asked and gripped his elbow. He pulled his arm across his chest, but stretching made the wound on his back hurt. He rotated his waist and tried to alleviate some pressure. “I need to help.”

“I don't need your help, Jack, and you need rest!” she insisted. "In case you didn't notice, you got shot."

“You’re right, you don't need my help. But this is something I need to help you with.” His face was resolute, with a soft blush Ana knew to be shame. Hakim rising to power was partially Overwatch’s fault.

“Very well, Jack, I would welcome your help. _After_ you've rested. I'm going out tonight to check on an informant, but I'll be back in a few hours. Please, rest, you need it. I don't like that wound.” She pulled out the Bastet mask and drew her fingers along the edge.

“Remember, if you don't get back in time to feed me I might starve,” Jack said with a wry grin. “Or, if you do try to feed me, I still might starve.”

Ana scoffed at him, gathered her gear, and slipped out through the hidden panel in the ceiling.

Jack quickly found himself restless. He knew he couldn't go out and run in the cooling night, but he needed to do something with his nervous energy. He dressed, taking care to pad the small of his back with his spare shirt, pulled his visor on, and gathered the broom.

He needed to do something, anything, to burn off the jitters, and since he couldn't leave the necropolis, he decided to clean. Jack thoroughly swept the few rooms and hall Ana had been living in, getting into the corners of both the floor and the ceiling, swiping at the cobwebs and removing as much sand as the broom would let him.

Jack arranged the supplies and living space, taking inventory and making notes on what needed replacing. Maybe he could ask for some cleaning rags? He knew they didn't plan to stay long, but he needed something to do while Ana gathered intelligence. 

As the night grew longer, it started to get cold, so he lit the small heater and put the leftover food on to warm up. Last night Ana had found and pulled in another cot so they could both have a place to sleep, and he made both beds.

He ate his ful beans and pita with gusto, trying not to think of anything for a few minutes. His mind needed rest, too. It was actually almost… nice, to just sit for a few minutes and gather his thoughts. Quiet moments were hard to find when one lived a life on the run, so he took them when he could.

As he sorted the rubbish into trash and recycling, he thought he heard a noise. Jack stood carefully, hauled his jacket on, and picked up the small rifle Ana had on hand. He moved carefully, rifle at the ready, and rolled into the hall.

A stray cat blinked up at him, and Jack’s shoulders relaxed. He secured the safety on the rifle and knelt down. “Hey, kitty, hey there,” he said quietly and rubbed his fingers in the cat's general area. “Want to come sit with me? Got some kebabs or something you can snack on.” He ignored the growing pain the the small of his back; maybe he should have taken it easy like Ana asked him. He didn't think some light cleaning would take so much out of him!

The cat sniffed at him, then turned and darted off.

Jack felt a pang of loneliness as the cat fled, and he stood up. He turned to go back to tidying and stopped.

Reaper stood behind him.

“Hello, Jackie,” he greeted. “Finally cleaning up after yourself?”

Jack's world went dark.

When he woke up he was laying on the cot. “What was that?” he hissed, hearing movement. The room was blurry and dim around him. Jack felt disoriented and a little dizzy, but he managed to sit up.

“I said ‘thank you for tidying up,’” Ana repeated. “You shouldn't have worked so hard, though.”

Jack’s back chose this time to remind him it existed. “Did you put me to bed?” he asked and reached up to touch his face. His visor was gone, and he felt the table by him, trying to find where it had gone. He could feel some keys, a paperback book, a bottle, and finally his visor. He pulled it on and the world came back into focus.

“No, you were in bed when I got back. Let me see your back.” Ana didn't give him much of an option, and Jack let her examine his back. “It looks better now. Here, I got some fresh clothes and some wet wipes for you. You're a little ripe.”

“You're one to talk!” he huffed at her, and they both laughed a little. “I could use a shower.”

“Eh, everyone stinks right now. Hakim's got a stranglehold on the utility companies.” 

After Jack wiped himself down, Ana helped him pull the shirt on, then rooted through their food. 

“Did you save me any ful, you horrible man? And after everything I do for you.”

“I thought I did,” he muttered. “Sorry, I must have been hungrier than I thought.” He went to the supplies pile and pulled out another bowl. “I left you the kushari.”

“Finally good for something, are you?” she quipped happily. He put the bowl on the heater and she sat down on her cot. “I got some good information. Hakim has a few work sites he needs to inspect.”

“Innocent people to shake down, you mean,” Jack grumbled and handed Ana a bottle of water.

“So here's the plan,” she said and held out a tiny drone. They were so much smaller than the ones Overwatch used fifteen years ago. “We find out where he isn’t for the night, break in, and grab the information we need. Then, and then, can take him down.”

“Will the officials be able to do anything about him? What if he's got too many men on the inside?” Jack had always been disgusted by corrupt public officials, and the sentiment had only grown over time. He had no delusions they ceased to exist after the Omnic Crisis.

“We're taking him to Helix.” Ana's voice was firm as she held up the datapad with her collected evidence on him. “They will deal with him.”

Jack nodded, understanding. Fareeha would not let Hakim slip away. “Well, then, we should get some rest. We've got a job to do in the morning.” He didn't want to admit it, but cleaning really had taken a lot out of him. He knew he would be fine after breakfast and a good night's rest.

As they settled down to sleep, he pulled his visor off. Before his world went blurry again he spotted a shape in the hall, dark and flickering, but it simply mewed and stole a fallen chunk of naan.

  


“Hey, we should take a robo-camel,” Jack said as he chewed on a date. He loved Egyptian street food. It was rich, packed with calories and carbs, and usually pretty inexpensive. Ever since SEP he needed plenty of protein and calories a day, especially after being wounded.

“No, we'll look like tourists,” Ana scoffed, then sighed. “Oh, that's perfect. We’ll blend right in! I hate you.” Who would suspect and older couple, one wearing an old red, white and blue American snap-back, of being international fugitives? She flagged down an empty robo-camel, swiped a debit card, and she and Jack hopped on.

Instantly the speaker chimed at them. “Welcome! I am Farouk, your tour guide! What would you like to see today?”

“It’s named Farouk. They're always named Farouk,” she muttered. “I want to see the dig-site on the west side of town, please.”

Ana, as did all locals, hated the robo-camel. Tourists flagged the annoying, chatty things down and were carted around town, shown historical sites and tourist hot spots, convinced they were getting the ‘true Egypt Experience.’ Hakim made a pretty penny from the horrible things.

They rode for a bit in silence, comfortable just being with each other. Eventually, though, Jack spoke. “I thought I saw him last night,” Jack said quietly. “He was in the hall as I finished cleaning.”

“Are you sure it was him?” she asked, concerned. If Reaper had been in the necropolis, why didn’t he kill Jack then, or subdue and take him away? Not three days ago they had all shot at each other and engaged in a fist fight. 

“I don't remember putting myself to bed last night,” he admitted. It was getting easier and easier to talk to Ana like the old friends they were, even if it was still sometimes stilted or slow. “I might have been tired, though.”

Ana gave a curious sound, then covered Farouk’s speaker with her palm when he offered to take them to a hotel with a spa. They rode for a while longer before finally she spoke again.

“I don’t know if anything was messed with, since you cleaned.” She mused for a bit. “It looks better in there, thank you.” 

“Everything was still there,” Jack said. Was everything still there? He thought back to the cleaning he had done, and, yes, he was certain it was all there. Now was not the time to doubt himself, no matter how tired he was. “I took stock, we don’t have many supplies. Maybe after getting some, we could get a few throw pillows, some hanging lanterns,” he mused and Ana elbowed him lightly in the ribs.

"We're here," she said as they pulled up to the old dig site. She sent Farouk on his way, telling him they wanted to observe the diggers for a while. 

The camel trotted off after a spiel about downloading the Robo-Camel App and enjoying their stay.

Ana gestured for Jack to follow, and led the way down the side of the dig. They crept in through a makeshift door, and Ana nodded. “Here, this leads to one of his buildings. The dig is a front to hide a new weapons lab they’re building under the guise of redecorating.”

He clicked a setting on his visor after snapping it into place, the tiny magnets connecting it to his temple, then winced as it turned on. Lately there had been feedback, damage from when he and Reaper traded blows the other day. The connection was jumpy at times, making the visor flicker, which in turn gave him a headache. If he switched too quickly between settings it buzzed, too. He slipped inside after Ana, who had pulled her own mask on, and they both drew their smaller weapons. Soldier: 76 disliked leaving his rifle back at the camp, but his sidearm was much easier to hide.

The two worked their way into the building, and he motioned to a panel.

“Can your visor tell anything about it?” Bastet asked as she tapped the panel.

“No, it’s not fully functional any more. It took some damage a few months back.” The soldier had answered before he even thought about it. Being honest with Ana was one of the easiest things in the world right now. You didn’t lie to someone watching your back.

“I’ve got a few code-breakers left,” she said as she cracked the panel and plugged the small device in. “My informant told me there’s an office on the fifth floor, hidden from the construction. We’ll go up, get the files, then make our way out.”

Soldier nodded and followed her into the elevator. The ride was quiet and fast, and they were not disturbed. While Bastet accessed the computer, Soldier: 76 watched the door. He heard something and looked over to Bastet.

She was hunched over a computer, tapping keys, and he spoke her name softly. When she looked up, he added, “Checking something out.”

Bastet nodded and Soldier: 76 leaned carefully into the hall. 

A wisp of smoke caught his attention and he aimed at it, carefully creeping closer. As he rolled around the corner, he heard a voice behind him. He whirled, but nothing was there.

“We tripped an alarm!” Bastet said suddenly into his communicator. “There’s a guard, he’s spotted us from the ground floor!”

“How?” the soldier grunted as he darted to the window she gestured at. “He’s making a break for it!” Bastet hissed into her communicator. “Don’t let him get away!”

“Taking the glass elevator!” Soldier: 76 snapped as he aimed his sidearm. He shot three bullets into the glass and barged through, shoulder first. 

He crashed through the window and rolled once he hit the ground, shattered glass crunching under his feet and back. A few bits of glass and grit made their way into his jacket, still not properly repaired. He had to get working on that as soon as he could get supplies. As he made his way down the alley, a dark form suddenly sideswiped him.

The old soldier crashed into the wall as Reaper barged into him, his visor grinding against his temple. "Get off!" he snapped at the wraith. "I’ve got a job to do!"

Reaper kept a grip on the mask over Soldier:76’s ear. "This isn't for pleasure," Reaper hissed. When the soldier pressed off the wall, his elbow cracked into Reaper's chin. Reaper pulled back, then dug his claws into the small of Soldier: 76's back.

The soldier tried not to scream, and was only marginally successful.

"You should take better care of your equipment, old man," the wraith hissed, and dug his claws in deeper. "That's some nasty damage to you jacket. The armor is thin there, you know."

The soldier brought his elbow back, slamming it into Reaper's arm, then rotated for a stronger hit. His palm smacked against the side of Reaper's head, followed by a crack with the grip of his sidearm.

"I'll manage," Soldier: 76 huffed. "We done here? Can I get back to work, or do you want to play some more?"

"I've got nothing better to do," Reaper hissed and adjusted his mask. “In fact, why don’t we play a game?” He lifted his clawed hand up, showing the communicator he’d ripped from the mask. “Hide and go seek, maybe? Tag?” He faded to smoke and pulled away, and the soldier gave chase. 

He followed down the side of the building and into the dig site, and rolled into the open space between the building and the massive hole in the ground.

Reaper was suddenly taking cover, ghosting to the safety of a truck. He drew his shotguns, and peeked around the corner.

Soldier: 76 took cover as well, and instinctively lifted his left hand to his ear. Only wires met his fingertips, and he turned to glare at Reaper.

Reaper lowered a shotgun long enough to pick up the communicator, wave it at him, drop it, and crush it under his heel.

The old soldier considered taking a potshot at Reaper when he peered around the edge of the truck again, but didn’t. Reaper didn’t seem to have expecting Hakim’s men to pop up so quickly. “You blew my cover, you idiot!” he shouted as he pulled back around the corner.

“Oh, really?” Reaper shot two men and returned to cover. “Did I _upset_ you?”

“I’m not mad about that,” Soldier: 76 admitted as he reloaded. “But SHE is.”

Three shots rang from above, and Soldier: 76 took this moment to pull back to the safety of a brick wall. As he collected himself he felt a chill behind him, and pressure on the back of his head.

“Just do it already,” he hissed, and Reaper stepped back. He fell into shadows, and Soldier: 76 retreated into the building.

  


“You two are still going at it, after all these years,” Ana commented as she pulled the old pad from Jack’s wound. “We’re running out of medical supplies.”

“We’ll make do. Next hit is a hospital, right?” He hissed as she pressed on the edge of the wound. “We can grab some things there.”

"Jack, this isn't something I've seen before." Ana pressed on some of the tissue in the wound itself and Jack didn't react to the touch. "I'm going to apply some more biotic gel and clean it out properly. You know what that means," she said quietly, and Jack nodded.

They didn't always get great medical care in the field during the crisis, and sometimes the only thing they could do was bite down on a folded belt and bear it.

“We got some good information on his theft of historic sites, and the real estate laws he’s violating by building on top of one.” She looked down when Jack laughed. “And what’s so funny?”

“They caught Al Capone on tax evasion. He was a big gang leader, before even my grandpa’s time.” He wondered what she was doing back there. He knew she was touching something, but he couldn’t tell what, exactly.

“Well, that might actually be what takes him down.” She poured some biotic gel into his wound. “We’re not stealing from the hospital, though. It provides care for the poor.”

Jack nodded. “We’ll hit a Box-Mart then. We’ll find something.” 

Ana nodded and re-bandaged the wound.

While Jack sat back and used a braille board to read the news, Ana worked on repairing his visor. They spent the evening in a comfortable silence.

  


The doctor’s office was better guarded than the construction site, but it was still easy enough to break into. Soldier: 76 had used his visor to hack into the camera feed, allowing them to bypass the rotating cameras and monitoring devices. He was happy the visor was up and running again, and not just because of the combat and espionage applications. He had told himself, time and time again, that he had accepted his blindness, but if he were honest with himself, and lately, he hadn’t been, he was immensely grateful for what sight the device gave back to him.

In the wee hours of the morning Ana had broken into an electronics store run by Hakim as a tax front and stolen several items, including a video game system. Using her own experience, and Jack’s directions, she had used the headset from the XBox XTernal to repair his communicator, using the tiny soldering kit that came with the Kid’s Learning Electronics Exploration Kit. After reinforcing several components, the visor was working mostly as intended again, but some things, like the heat sensor, were still damaged.

Jack felt inadequate and a little dumb over not being able to fix it, despite being mostly blind. He was always hardest on himself, despite his physical limitations. Gabriel was always telling him to rela— 

The old soldier tried not to think about that.

They were now standing in an office, and the soldier started pacing back and forth, occasionally clicking through the settings on his visor. He appreciated the repairs. There was no more ghosting when he moved his head too quickly, and the connection on the left temple didn’t tingle any more.

He spotted movement and a flash of red, but it was only his reflection in a display case. He walked to it and peered inside.

At least two dozen bottles of liquor were resting behind glass, with tumblers, serving trays, conversation pieces, cigar trimmers, and other such paraphernalia arranged in a homely, attractive pattern.

It had been most of a week since his last drink, and he found himself swallowing dryly. He didn't need to drink. He wasn’t about to let Ana catch him drinking, either.

His father, James Earl Morrison, drank. John Francis Morrison did not.

But the weary soldier did. The worn out former strike-commander did. The tired old man did.

Without really knowing it, his hand had lifted to the latch of the glass panels. 

A flash of moment behind his reflection startled him, and he turned around, sidearm up. Soldier: 76 crept through the office, carefully sidling along the wall as he followed the vague impression of a man, and dropping to his knees as he moved around the corner. 

Nothing awaited him.

He moved forward, visor not detecting movement, and finally, he returned to Bastet. "We're not alone," he murmured, keeping his back to hers.

"As I expected," she said quietly. "This is what I need." Bastet quickly used the key hacker to break into the system, as the screens flashed and the fans whirred. After a moment shutters slammed shut on the windows and red lights filled the halls. “What happened?” she asked as she snapped her head around. “Who set off an alarm!”

Soldier: 76 sheepishly pulled his hand away from the liquor cabinet latch again, then shrugged. “We should get going. He’s here.”

“You fool!” snarled as she slapped the back of his head. “You couldn’t wait a few hours?” She muttered to herself in Arabic as she unplugged her computer equipment and stashed it in her bag.

The two left as quickly and quietly as they could. At each corner the soldier could feel an odd coolness in the air, a drop in the temperature.

His back ached. His head hurt. His visor flickered. His mouth was dry. He didn’t want to deal with Reaper right now.

At each corner, he spotted Reaper standing in a doorway.

Reaper didn’t move, only turning his head to watch the two leave.

Soldier: 76 thought that was, somehow, worse than him actually doing something.

  


"It's not looking any better," Ana admitted, and reached for a knife. She was still upset with him and her voice showed it. She ran a lighter over it and waved it about to cool it, then tried to slice into the black ooze. "It's hard, like tar. I think it's affecting your healing ability." She ran her fingers gently over a slice in his shoulder from some glass. By now it should have pulled itself shut, but she had to use two stitches to keep it closed.

"Can you remove it?" Jack asked, and took another bite of ful and rice from its plastic takeaway bowl.

"How can you eat at a time like this?" Ana scolded a little harsher than she meant to. She examined the edge of the wound. "I think I can pull some of it out, yes." Ana carefully slid the blade between the skin and the ooze, and sliced.

Jack grunted and gripped his bowl, cracking it and scattering rice. "At least we know the nerves are healing," he panted as Ana fretted over him, hands on his arm.

"I'm sorry, Jack. It's just, there's a lot for dead skin here, and the black matter, I don't know what it is!" She rested her head on Jack's shoulder, then gathered herself. She pulled the ooze away and dripped biotic fluid between it and the skin. Jack shuddered at the liquid, both warm and chilly at the same time.

"It's nanite," she said as she guided the biotic fluid into the other side, "so we know who we can talk to."

Jack shook his head. “We can find someone local, Ana.” He shifted his weight when Ana tapped his shoulder. “We don’t need to bring Angie into this. She's got a clinic, she helps people. We can't ruin the life she's repaired!" Jack insisted. He carefully put part of the bowl down, trying not to spill too much more supper. It was hard to figure out where to put it, though, without his visor.

"Even if I pull this stuff out, you're going to have a crater, Jack." She resisted calling him 'idiot boy' like she used to years ago. "Angela can, and would love to help you."

"She buried us, Ana. She cried at our funerals." Jack did feel better once the biotic fluid worked is way into his skin. It relieved the tightness he felt and cooled the heat of the infection. "We can't do this to her. We can't bring this mess back into her life!" Jack took a deep breath. "We never should have involved her in the first place. I never would have involved her in the first place if I knew what would have happened."

"You can't make that decision for people!" Ana insisted, not for the first time.

Jack steamrollered on, "I would never have brought Marcus along. He was a gentle soul, Ana, he didn't need to be on the battlefield like that. I should never have let Gabe bring Jesse on. He was as good as a child soldier! And Echo! How much good could she have done? She got involved and now she's mothballed like she's some, some thing."

Ana did not want him to wallow in regrets and self pity. "Marcus fought _because_ he was a gentle soul. Jesse knew he had a second chance to repair his past and finally do the right thing. Echo fought hard for her rights, rights she'll have once we find her. They're all strong, Jack."

She cut some bandages to shape. "Angie won't break. I have faith in her." Ana took care in wrapping his wound, deciding to leave the rest of the mass where it was for now. "Give them some credit, Jack, and trust them. They're not made of wet paper."

Jack sighed, then finally nodded. "Once this is over, we can go see Angie," he agreed, and Ana wrapped herself around his arm.

"If you plan on dying out there so you don't have to explain to a five and a half foot Swiss woman why you're not dead, Jackie, think again!" Ana said in a sing-song voice. "If I have to tell her I'm not dead, you have to tell her you're not dead!"

Jack actually laughed, and gripped one of Ana's hands. "She's kinda scary."

"Look at you, big strong man!" Ana mocked lovingly. "Didn't you lead a massive worldwide organization? Didn't you look danger in the eye seven days a week? Is this the same man who stabbed a Bastion unit in the eye with a piece of rebar because it looked in my general direction?"

"Have you MET Angela Ziegler?" Jack laughed.

"That's fair." She looked down at the mess at his feet. "Did you spill all the ful? I am NEVER getting ful while you're around, am I?"

Jack groaned, both for comedic and to hide his own discomfort, as he reached into his bag and pulled out a second bowl for Ana. He had intended it for the rest of his supper, but he wasn’t hungry anymore.

He didn’t want to go to Angela, but he knew he had precious few other options.

  


Jack’s back was stiff. He tried to hide it from Ana, but she knew. She always knew. He could feel her eye watching him from under her dark mask, and he tried to ignore her. He fiddled with his ammunition, checked his biotic emitters, and tried not to look like climbing the stairs aggravated his back. “This is the last hit, right?” he asked quietly to keep her from asking about his aches and pains. 

It worked a little. “Yes, then we can be done with this and get you proper medical care.”

Jack adjusted his visor and it snapped to life again. “And some technical care,” the old soldier muttered. He was tired. His joints ached and his head was heavy from lack of rest. He could sleep, but rest? That was hard right now. He needed a cigarette, but he had run out three days ago and hadn’t bought more. As Soldier: 76 worked his way through the halls, he thought he saw wisps of smoke trickle out from under a door. 

Bastet easily bypassed the next security panel, then paused. She gave a gesture, one he recognized, and the two rapidly retreated down the hall.

The few seconds it took them to move pulled them out of the blast radius, but Soldier: 76 could still feel the heat of the explosion on his back as the room behind them caught fire. The two turned and ran, and he let Bastet pass him.

“Move, idiot boy!” she hissed at him and slapped his shoulder, and the soldier ignored her. It was hard to hear over the pops of gunfire and blaring alarms.

He turned and fired several shots down the hall, letting his unreliable visor aim for him, then turned to follow. He felt clumsy and slow, and Bastet knew it. If she could see under his mask, she would see the grimace of pain his shoulders showed. “Get moving, I’ll slow them down!” he called to her.

A shot struck his shoulder right as the red lights turned on, but the armor in the jacket held. He rolled forward and landed in a kneeling position, then felt his guts drop from his torso as he couldn’t move for a moment. As he turned to try and fire, a dark arm reached forward and hauled him into a room.

“Useless,” Reaper hissed as he stepped into the hall. He fired several times, clearing the space, and turned to Soldier: 76. “You should take a nap, old man.” He hauled Soldier: 76 up and dragged him along as he exited the room.

Bastet stood there, gun aimed carefully at Reaper’s chest. “What’s your game tonight?” she asked in a quiet voice.

“Just cleaning up your mess. As usual.”

“How about cleaning the sand out of all that leather? It’s got to be hot and grimy in there,” the old soldier scoffed. 

“Shut your mouth, pendejo!” Reaper snarled as the red lights in the hall dimmed slightly. “Just get out.” He shoved the soldier’s shoulder, pushing him towards Ana. “Take him home and don't let him out again.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do!” Soldier: 76 snapped back, and gripped Reaper’s wrist. He went to haul Reaper’s hand from his shoulder, and Reaper shoved again. Soldier: 76 twisted his arm and Reaper pulled back, and brought his fist up.

The old soldier caught it quickly and twisted, tossing Reaper over his hip, but Reaper unwound into dust and reformed a few feet away. “Face me,” the soldier snarled. “Take off that mask and face me like a man.”

“Trust me, you don’t want to see that,” Reaper snapped. “Or are you no longer listening to her, too? You always did take her judgement over mine.”

Soldier: 76 pulled back, putting himself between Bastet and Reaper. “You leave her out of it!”

“Both of you,” Bastet snapped, “are idiot boys!” She pulled out her tablet. “We need to leave! Now!”

“Good,” Reaper oozed. “We’re done here.”

Soldier: 76 swung another punch, and Reaper was ready to trade blows.

Bastet grabbed both of their arms. “Boys! The guards!” she snapped and they both pulled back.

Reaper turned, fading into the shadows at his feet, and Soldier: 76 felt the aching cold in his legs and ankles. 

He and Bastet turned and fled, leaving behind the alarms and a hall of decaying bodies.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you the other day,” Ana said quietly as she examined the mass in Jack’s back. She had managed to remove several more pieces of it, along with the dead skin and an infection which had tried to set in. 

“No, I was being an idiot boy, you were right.” Jack felt her probe the edge of his wound and winced a little. “I shouldn’t let him get to me.”

“More feeling is returning,” she noted. “Also, about the drinking...” she trailed off. They were both silent for a while. “Sometimes, just thinking of how ashamed Fareeha would be of me is the only thing that keeps me from hiding in a bottle. I shouldn’t have hit you.”

Jack reached back and gripped her fingers. “Maybe I need someone to be hard on me. Gabe was always hard on me.” He squeezed her fingers, and she squeezed back. “He was always pushing me so hard, but he knew I could do it.”

He let her finish dressing the wound, then stood. He walked to the rubble at the far end of the room and returned with the bottle he had stashed there, walking over to the drain that led to the sewer. “Part of the reason I wanted to go with you was so I wouldn’t be here. Alone. With this.” He turned to open the bottle, and Ana stopped him.

“No, that water gets recycled. Here, put it in liquid waste.” 

He nodded and tipped out the bottle, listening to the burble and smelling the whiskey, then rinsed it out. Jack knew he would miss the warmth in his belly, and the woodsy smell that reminded him of camping by the creek back home in Indiana. He took one last sniff, now a watery smell for a faded memory, dropped it into recycling, then stared at it. “So,” he said quietly, and let Ana guide him back to the living area. He was unable to finish his thought.

She handed him his dinner and they quietly ate.

“What did you see?” he asked quietly. “Under his mask?”

Ana sighed and took her a moment to answer. “A parody,” she said softly. “Like he was trying to be Gabriel, but had never seen Gabriel. Like he was going off of second hand information. ‘Oh, he has a nose like this, oh, his lips look like this.’ It was uncanny.” She didn’t mention the eyes opening in the scars or just how wide his mouth was.

Or the teeth.

“I don’t know how much of our Gabe is left in there,” she said quietly.

“He’s always worn a lot of masks,” Jack noted as he fished some chicken from his bowl. “He could be so shady around some people. Friendly. Mean. Stupid. Kind. Smart.” He pulled some more rice into the middle of the bowl and swirled it in the curry. “This might just be another one.”

He meant it to be hopeful, but his voice was too remorseful for that. They ate quietly, and lay down to sleep. Jack had a hard time resting, though. All he could think of was Reaper in an unmarked van somewhere, without someone like Ana to fuss over him.

Was he angry? Was he lonely? Was he in pain? Not knowing was terrible.

Jack remembered when he and Gabriel used to talk for hours about everything and nothing. They slowly quit talking as Overwatch grew larger, and they had less and less time. Gabriel would try so hard to make time, and Jack wanted to listen, he wanted to listen so badly, but he was so busy.

Jack regretted choosing the world over Gabriel.

The choice was hard then, and devastating now.

He settled his hips to take some strain off the small of his back and managed to rest.

  


There were insults the two yelled at each other so many times, and insults they would never say. Jack would never make a ’yo mama’ joke to Gabriel, and Gabriel would never mock autistic people. They would call each all sorts of foul names and insults, so this was nothing new. 

Getting sucker punched in the back of the head while being called a “Clown Fucking Walking Target” in the middle of a firefight, however, was new.

“You shouldn’t talk about yourself that way!” Soldier: 76 snapped back after unleashing a helix rocket. His supply was getting low, so carefully aimed single shots was the best way to go. He tried to use short, careful bursts of plasma fire to corral Hakim’s massive omnic guard into place, but the armored monstrosity wasn’t taking the bait.

“Trouble finishing what you started?” Reaper sneered, and fired two blasts into the omnic’s chest. 

The omnic hardly flinched, and made a scoffing beep of a noise.

Reaper fell into the shadows as the soldier continued to pressure the omnic. He rolled from cover and continued to fire, lettings his visor pick out the weak points Reaper’s shots had opened up. After a few more bursts of fire the omnic’s chest started to spark, and he finally pulled back. 

As Soldier: 76 steadied himself, a single shot buried itself in the wall by his head.

 _“Move your ass, old man!”_ Reaper’s voice hissed in Spanish in his communicator. 

“What, only you get to kill me?” Soldier: 76 quipped as he sprinted to the nearby van to take cover. 

It was a good thing, too, since the crates he had been hiding behind were crushed by the massive omnic.

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

Reaper’s response and dry delivery won a barking laugh from the old soldier.

“That’s rich, coming from a drama kid!” It was hard to keep the light out of his voice. How long had it been since the two ribbed each other like this? 

The response was quiet and drawn out. “Theater major. Which, if you had any class, would have known.” There wasn’t anything necessarily kind in his voice, but it did lack his usual mocking sarcasm.

Was Reaper as lonely as Soldier: 76 was?

Was Gabriel as lonely as Jack was?

Did he miss Jack?

Did he miss the banter and the teasing too?

Soldier: 76 put those thoughts behind him as he plied the omnic with another round of pulse shots. He dove behind a barrel, wondering how Bastet was doing.

Right now, he was the bigger target. It had taken most of an hour to convince Ana to go alone into the building across town and use Soldier: 76 as a distraction. So far it had worked. 

Hakim had quickly figured out Bastet and Soldier: 76 were working together, so when the old soldier was spotted sneaking around, he had pulled the majority of his forces out to stop him. Either he hadn’t guessed it was a ruse yet, or he was just that desperate to kill him.

And if he died? So long as Bastet did her job, he could die contented. He wouldn’t have to face Angela.

He wouldn’t have to see her cry, or get angry, or be relieved that he was alive. He wouldn’t have to deal with her hugs, her scolding, her horrible coffee. He wouldn’t need to be there if she cast aside her dreams, her life, everything she worked hard for, just to follow him on a stupid crusade he should have never involved her in in the first place.

“Wake up, idiot!” Reaper snapped in his ear. 

It was hard for Soldier: 76 to follow him into the next building. His back was numb and on fire at the same time and he felt like he was wading through mud.

The doors slammed shut, and the lights turned off. “You led me into a trap?” the soldier snapped, and raised his rifle to Reaper’s chest. How could he have trusted him? 

“You’re a fool,” Reaper snapped. “Put that down before you throw your back out!”

When Soldier: 76 did not comply, Reaper aimed a fist for his head.

The soldier grabbed his hand and shoved, then slung his rifle on his back, letting the magnet snap it into place. He jerked a little as the small of his back reminded him it existed, but grabbed Reaper’s other fist regardless. The old soldier had no option but to work through the pain.

They grappled briefly and suddenly they were in three/three time, stepping to a familiar pattern and moving in sync. Muscle memory took over, putting them in rhythm and sending them circling.

Memories flooded both of them, causing them to falter, and Jack ruined the moment entirely when his hand slid down to Reaper's waist.

Reaper gripped him and rolled him over his hip, and Jack hit the ground hard. “Don’t get too familiar,” Reaper spat at him.

“Don’t be a stranger, then,” Soldier: 76 snapped back. He wanted to kick his legs out and snap to his feet, but the pain in his back was too much.

“Getting stiff in your old age?” Reaper mocked as he took a step back. “Stop laughing,” Reaper snapped in irritation.

Jack rolled to his side and pushed himself up. “This is your fault anyways.” He bent forward and put a hand on the small of his back. “You really did a number on this old man.”

Why were they teasing each other like this? Like old times? Did Reaper feel the same way Soldier: 76 did right now? Confused, lonely, angry? He had so many questions, and knew he might never get answers. Instead, he rolled to his side and slowly rose to his feet. 

“Old age catching up?” Reaper asked, and the two started to rotate each other.

“Just my lower back.” Jack watched for any sign of emotion.

Gabriel had always been one for grand gestures, a holdover from his theater nerd days. He tossed his head back when laughing, he made wide, fluid sweeps with his hands when pointing out details on the holoscreeens, he tilted his head when listening.

Right now Jack could barely, in the limited vision of his freshly damaged visor, make out a tilt of the head. Did Reaper know something was wrong with his back now? Soldier: 76 decided he didn’t have the time or patience to be subtle anymore. “Can we hurry this up? My back’s been bothering me since you shot me.”

“So impatient lately.” Reaper continued to move, and Soldier: 76 found himself walking as well. “Want me to finish the job?” 

“No, I want to see what’s under that mask.” That might have been pushing it, the soldier suddenly realized, watching as Reaper’s fingers rippled as he moved hands over his hips. “I’ll even go first,” he offered, but didn’t reach for his visor.

Reaper moved quicker than Soldier: 76 could track him, suddenly crashing into him. They hit the ground and Soldier: 76 prepared for another fist fight, but there was a thunderous crack and everything shifted.

The two plunged into darkness as the platform below them crumbled, and it felt to the old soldier that he hit every single rock on the way down.

  


When Jack woke up, it was completely dark. He groaned and felt around, and pressed a hand to his face. His visor felt intact, so as he sat up and clicked through the settings. As he hit ‘Low Light,’ a pair of boots came into view. He realized he could see because of the sparkling, joy-colored light of a biotic emitter. 

Jack grunted a little once he recognized them. “Surprised you didn’t take off,” Jack muttered. “Just teleport away.” ‘Leave me alone in the dark,’ he thought to himself. He clicked a few settings, but the visor refused to do much for him. “And I just got it fixed,” he muttered, pressing a panel back into place.

Reaper’s head barely turned to regard him, but he spoke all the same, “I need to see where I’m going, pendejo.” 

“Well, excuse me for not knowing how to teleport.” Jack stretched his back and something popped. He could see Reaper twitch a little at that. The humming light died down. “What happened?”

Reaper ignored the obvious joke of ‘the emitter ran out.’ “Hakim blew the floor out. Sealed the top. We’re deep underground, about fifty feet in an old crypt.” Reaper touched one of the walls, trying to sense how thick it was. He couldn’t teleport through solid objects, despite what he told people or let them believe. He pulled an industrial glow stick from his pocket, shook it, and cracked it open.

Jack could see a little better once Reaper tossed the glow stick into the middle of the room. “Hakim tried to take out the both of us,” Jack muttered, and clicked his settings again. His pulse rifle pinged on his visor, and he limped over to it. He snapped it to his back, but his entire body was too sore to notice if it slammed against his lower back wrong. “He owe you money?”

Reaper was silent.

“Try to get too chummy?” Jack guessed, and Reaper bristled a little. “Did he pronounce it tor-till-uh?”

“Will you stop talking?” the wraith suddenly snarled.

Jack started clicking through his settings again, trying to see if his GPS still worked.

“Do you have to mess with that?” Reaper snapped, and Jack shrugged. He suddenly gripped the edge of the visor and hauled, and Jack gave an agitated grunt as it crumbled around his face. “Do you always have to fidget with things!” he hissed. “Let’s see how well you do without your little toy!”

“Don’t!” Jack snapped, struggling with Reaper for the device. He heard a crack as Reaper’s fist closed tighter, and he reached for it in a panic. His fingers gripped at Reaper’s claws, and there was another crack. “Stop, Gabriel, stop!” Jack lashed out and slammed his elbow into Reaper’s shoulder. “Give it back,” he growled. He struck out when Reaper moved again, but hit only smoke.

“This is pretty important, isn’t it?” Reaper asked and examined the visor. He suddenly spotted the cybernetic ports inside the device. Jack had matching ports on his temples. Reaper made a soft, contemplative sound and walked slowly, noting when Jack followed him. He ghosted across the floor, right in front of Jack, and Jack didn’t follow. He ghosted closer, and took a loud step.

Jack zeroed in on him, face red with anger, and Reaper faded away. Jack huffed and took a defensive position, tilting his head quickly, trying to hear where Reaper was.

Reaper wraithed right behind him and stood still. 

Jack shifted, carefully listening, and stepped backwards.

Reaper ripped the pulse rifle from Jack’s back and gripped his arms, pinning them tightly against Jack’s sides. He knocked the back of one of Jack’s knees with his own and tossed him to the side. Despite Jack's struggles, Reaper successfully twisted one of Jack’s arms behind his back and pinned him. “Jack?” he said quietly as he pressed down. There was no taunt in his voice, only the gentle tone of concern. 

“Go to hell,” Jack muttered. He knew the questions Reaper would have, and it was a conversation Jack didn’t want to go over again. He had already answered Ana’s questions, and she had had dozens of them.

“What happened?” Reaper asked and pressed a little harder, and Jack grunted.

“The bomb,” he said after a moment. “Shock waves, head trauma.” He rolled his shoulders a little as Reaper eased up. “Got some vision in the left, not much in the right.” 

Reaper pulled away and sat back on his heels.

After a moment Jack pulled himself up and found his pulse rifle again. “So, are we continuing this little dance?” he asked as he steadied himself. He slung his rifle back where it belonged, but the magnet was off center. At least it didn’t crack into his back this time.

“I’m not beating up a blind guy,” Reaper snapped, and Jack grunted at him. “Still a sparkling conversationalist, I see.” He made sure his leather coat creaked as he turned, letting Jack know where he was. “Here.” Reaper held the visor out, and shook it gently. “The visor.” He tapped Jack’s shoulder with it, and Jack pulled it on.

It sparked on his temples, the connections Ana had soldered hours ago now loose, and the camera refused to work. He would just have to find out where he was the low-tech way, then. Jack stood and clapped loudly, and listened to the echo as it reverberated around the space. Then, he walked to the wall, trailing it with his fingers. He kept his hand on the wall and jumped, but couldn’t touch the ceiling.

The room was roughly twenty by twenty-five feet, mostly rectangular, with plenty of debris and rubble on the floor. He couldn’t feel how high the ceiling was, but with a few more claps at the corners he figured it was too tall to matter.

“You get along well,” Reaper commented as Jack finished his preliminary exploration. 

“Had to learn,” he said and pulled his gloves off. He started to search the walls for any type of opening.

“There’s no door. Hakim had them blocked off. He had plans to use this as a dumping ground for bodies.” He almost chuckled when Jack paused. “Don’t worry, we’re the first.”

“Well, ain’t we special.” Jack adjusted his visor, but they were too deep underground to get any communication signal. With the camera damaged and the ports bent out of shape it was useless to him. He pulled it off and shoved it in its padded pouch, and he hoped they got out so he could get it repaired. Again.

“What happened to you?” Reaper asked quietly, walking up to Jack with easily audible steps.

Jack appreciated the effort. “Work.” He was now completely blind despite the glow stick Reaper had cracked, a fact Reaper seemed to pick up on. “Took on more than I could chew. That’s when I had to admit I couldn’t see any more. Met a doctor in Canada, had the ports put in.” He paused and rubbed his chin. “There’s a joke in there about the American healthcare system, but I don’t want to make it right now.” 

Reaper snorted a laugh.

“Offered me cybernetic eyes, but, that’s just,” Jack said and faltered.

“A little too much?” Reaper finished.

“Yeah, even this feels intrusive.” They stood in awkward silence for a minute. “What happened to you?” Jack asked quietly. 

Reaper didn’t answer. 

“Ah, too personal, I get it. We were only married and together for twenty years, I don’t deserve your tragic backstory,” Jack scoffed.

The old line of ‘married for twenty years’ was not met with the usual reaction. “You deserved better than me,” Gabriel said quietly under the mask. “We both deserved better than war and chaos and Overwatch.”

Jack crossed his arms. “You don’t get to tell me what I deserve. I deserve to love who I want to love, to be with who I want to be.” He had lost track of Reaper, and looked in the area he had last heard him in. “I should have tried harder. I could have done better than what I did.” He sighed and looked up. “Gabe, is there any-”

“We'll just keep falling into the same old patterns,” Gabriel interrupted quietly. “The same old song and dance. We’ll get close, then blow ourselves apart again.”

“I don’t want to believe that.” Jack’s voice was firm. “You’re as dramatic as usual I see. Or don't, as the case may be,” he quipped. He was tired. He was so tired. Jack carefully lowered himself to the ground with a soft groan.

“Aren’t you worried I’m going to ambush you?” Reaper asked, and Jack shook his head. “Keep you from doing your job?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Jack said and shook his head. “Ana’s got the goods on Hakim, she can save Egypt, at least. Overwatch should never had interfered in the first place. We never should have had that much power! Who thought it was a good idea? Did we learn nothing from the Arab Spring?”

“It wasn’t what we wanted when we started the entire mess, that’s for sure,” Gabriel said quietly. “How did you escape the bomb?” he asked quietly.

“I didn’t.” Jack was quiet for a moment. “I took a blow to the head. Would have killed a normal man. But they dug me out.” He sighed and lowered himself to the ground, feeling so very old and tired. “My face was swollen. They thought I was Ben.” He tucked his right leg under his left, the same old bad habit that did nothing but cut off his circulation.

Gabriel tapped Jack’s foot with his own as he walked closer, and with a grunt, Jack crossed his legs and rested his hands on his knees. “Your body double?” he asked, and Jack nodded.

Sometimes, when he was too worn down or just couldn’t make it, Ben would do photo shoots and school openings for him. The spunky Canadian was just as charming and vivid as Jack, and only a few people could tell the difference after a bit of cosmetic surgery. Despite his best efforts, though, Ben could never fool Genji or Gabriel. Genji’s cybernetic eyes could pick out the minute differences, and Gabriel would never fall for an impostor, no matter how good he was. Ben was bright and easy to talk to, one of the few people Jack trusted completely.

Gabriel lowered himself to the ground, back to back with the old soldier. He could feel Jack’s back through his coat, and it reminded him and nights they would stay up and watched for omnic scouts, back to back for warmth. Gabriel had liked Ben, thought he was smart and witty. He wondered for a few moments if they ever found Ben’s body. Not for the first time he wondered how many bodies were still unrecoverable, how many were still missing. 

“Yeah, when I woke up, I was asking about ‘the commander.’ They thought I meant me.” Jack sighed deeply; he had been angry at Gabriel, and had been calling him by his rank all day, refusing to use his name. It had been so childish of him! “For years I thought the last thing you heard was me calling you commander.” He pulled out his dog tags and started to slide them through his fingers like a rosary. “But, while I was in the hospital, it was quiet at night. There was still noise; chatter, alarms, people walking, all that, but it was distant, not right in my ear.”

He paused for a moment, grateful Gabriel let him have some silence. Jack really appreciated the silence. “Bluewatch,” he said, using the nickname for his PR team and handlers, “never let me rest. All they did was break my concentration. I never realized how chaperoned I was! How handled I was! I was never alone, it was never quiet, voices were always chattering. Hands always getting my hair the right combination of bedhead and slicked back. People always changing my clothes for me.” Jack ran his hands over his head and shoulders. 

He ruffled his hair and tugged his jacket out of shape, all the while shuddering at the memories of all those hands. “I wasn’t a person any more, I was just this toy, this, this object! A figure head. An action figure. And I couldn’t think, I could never think! I never had a moment to myself!” Jack said with a bite of contempt in his voice. 

He gave a sigh and leaned into Gabriel, the memory draining him. He was too tired to be angry right now. “I never thought it was intentional until it was gone.” He paused. “When I asked for a break, for some alone time, to just have things shut up for a while, they would ask if I was cracking under the pressure, then tell me that it wasn’t that bad, that I was needed.” His voice wavered. “I was strong, I could do this.”

Gabriel was silent for a moment. “I always knew they were handling you, but could never tell you,” Gabriel said softly. He leaned against Jack. “I tried, a few times.”

Jack leaned back against him, and let his head drop onto Gabriel’s shoulder. “I never listened to you, Gabe. I’m so sorry.” 

They sat in silence for a while. 

“You always trusted me to do the right thing, though, or the thing that was best for the most people.” Gabriel’s voice was quiet.

“Of course I did. All that time, I just wanted to help people.” Jack’s voice was tired.

“I always trusted you to keep me from going too far.” There was no accusation in Gabriel’s voice. “Up until Rialto, I always tried to do things your way. To do the right thing. You were my compass.”

“Would you say,” Jack started, and Gabriel groaned at the tone in his voice. “I was a golden light? A golden example?”

“If you say it, I’m going to shoot you,” he warned. He didn’t need any ‘golden boy’ in mangled Spanish jokes right now. He paused, though, the reality of their recent past and present situation sinking in, and his voice became quiet. “What happened to us, Jackie?” Gabriel asked quietly.

Jack put Gabriel’s hand on his own, and Gabriel didn't pull away. “I guess we swapped places. You've got the plan, and I'm flailing wildly in the dark.”

“I've always had a plan, Jack,” Gabriel said with a snort. “But, yeah. You're in the outskirts, I'm in the high tower this time.”

“Do you have a Bluewatch?” Jack asked.

“I don’t, but I have almost every single official breathing down my neck. Peons clawing for power. Power hungry ladder climbers looking to use me for personal gain. People willing to look for any flaw to expose me.” His voice was bitter.

“So, Bluewatch.”

“Yeah,” Gabriel said after a moment. “Bluewatch.”

"You know what I really hate?" Jack suddenly asked, and Gabriel looked up. Jack could feel his head move, and he suddenly realized not only how much he missed Gabriel's personality, but his form next to him, solid but giving, warm and comforting.

"Peanut butter," Gabriel muttered, his tone incredulous. “What type of white person hates peanut butter?”

Jack huffed, then slowly started to laugh. 

In public appearances Strike-Commander Morrison’s laugh was bright and calm, a gentle glitter of mirth. Soothing and polite.

In reality, Jack laughed ugly. He snorted and gasped and breathed heavily through his mouth. He slapped his thighs and rocked a little. After a moment he was able to stop. “Yeah, I really hate peanut butter.”

Gabriel smirked and let Jack laugh. "Give me your jacket, Jackie," he said quietly. "Let me see it."

Jack nodded, pulled his jacket off, and passed it over his shoulder.

Gabriel took it and examined the broken plating in the back. His eyes could catch the light of the glowstick far better than any human eyes, albeit without many colors, allowing him to make out the damage. "I don't have the supplies to fix it, but I can at least put it back together."

"So, you can fix it," Jack smirked.

"No," Gabriel sighed. "I can get it to working condition, but I can't repair it." This was an old argument. What Jack and Gabriel considered 'repaired' were two dramatically different things. "I can also look at your visor."

Jack nodded, and gestured to the jacket. "Inner left pocket, the padded one. Ana looked at it, touched it up a little. She said there's nothing more she could do with what she had."

"Then there's nothing else I can do with it either," Gabriel reasoned. He didn’t mention there was nothing he could do about the crushing damage. As he wondered where to get a new visor he put his fingers through a few holes in the jacket to check the damage. He supposed he could generate a few nanites, use them to patch the armor. God knew Jack needed all the armor he could get. “So, what, besides peanut butter, do you hate?”

“Every goddamned _thing_ about this situation. Every fight we’ve had. Every time we shot at each other. Every time we could have _been_ together.” He exhaled deeply. “We could have run away.”

“No, you would never run away.” Gabriel concentrated, and pulled a thin line of material from his fingertips. He carefully started to mend the leather, crossing nantie threads as if darning a sock.

“There are small ways we could have helped people,” Jack insisted. “But the high-ups said we should concentrate on the big picture. That we should let other people concentrate on the small picture, let them fix themselves.” His voice was bitter. “I should have never listened. Once they started sounding like my father I should have known it was a bad idea.”

“And what would you have done?” Gabriel asked as he crafted a small patch.

“Urban gardens. Remove homeless spikes. Teach people to repair before buying new things. Should’ve been more like mom, and less like dad.”

Gabriel nodded as he continued to darn the jacket. “And did you know these things then?” he asked, and Jack sighed. “Hindsight is twenty/twenty, Jackie.” It was easier and easier to return to their old patterns, and that scared Gabriel. He didn’t want to return to their past, not again. A soft clinking noise distracted him from his musing. “What’s that noise? What are you fidgeting with now?” he demanded. “You never could sit still.”

“Yeah, I know, it’s the ADD.” Jack was constantly messing with things. Part of what had been so hard being a public figure for him was that he wasn’t allowed to distract himself with fidget cubes or spinners or pens or zippers. He had to sit still and smile and be perfect. The upside of being a vigilante was that wasn’t an issue anymore, he could fiddle all he liked.

Gabriel held his hand over his shoulder, and Jack dropped his dog tags into his palm like a guilty school child. “You can have them back once I’ve determined they’re not a choking hazard,” Gabriel said in a patient voice. He then examined the chain and its contents, voice becoming quiet. “You kept your ring?” Gabriel asked, and rolled it in his fingers. “No, this isn’t it.” He examined the etching. It was a good facsimile, though.

“I did keep it, but it was stolen along the way. I had it remade, but it’s not the same. It’s not the one you got me.” He leaned his head back, and Gabriel supported it with his own. “Nothing’s the same. We can’t go back.” The revelation wore him down emotionally. The ring was new. Their situation was not. Well, it was unique, but they were still fighting and making up, only to never learn from their mistakes.

Gabriel held the chain over his shoulder, and Jack took it back. He then rested his hands on the ground. “No, we can’t go back.” He felt a brush against his little finger, and Gabriel hooked his claw around Jack’s little finger. “Nothing to go back to.”

“I miss you, Gabe.” The crack in Jack’s voice surprised Gabriel. “But I’m so mad at you. I’ve been so mad at you for so long!”

“You’re mad at me?” Gabriel asked in astonishment. “You left me, Jackie!” Gabriel hissed. “You died. Now you’re back and wearing that damn jacket!” Reaper leaned forward, and Soldier:76 almost fell backwards. “You left me! And why this jacket? Are you trying to mock me?” He barely kept his claws from digging more holes in the leather.

“It’s a message!” Jack snapped back. “So they would know it was me, so they would all know I haven’t given up!” He paused a moment, and swallowed heavily. “So part of you was with me. So I could feel like we were doing this together.”

Gabriel was quiet, lost in thought. “I remember when I got this thing for you. It was a stupid idea, but you loved it.”

“Because it’s not a stupid idea,” Jack insisted. “It was a great idea.” He shrugged his shoulders as the two settled back. “I love that jacket. You got it for me.”

“Paid a good deal of money to have it custom made, you mean.” Gabriel started to darn the next hole. “Then you went and had armor plating put in. Look at these seams! Who did this?”

“I could have bought a new one, but I wanted to use that one.”

Gabriel snorted a little. “Romantic fool.”

“You should talk. You’ve still got that belt buckle I got you.” Jack’s voice was a little smug as Reaper’s hand tapped the owl buckle. 

“It ties the uniform together,” he said quietly. They sat for a while, and finally Reaper held up the jacket to examine his work in the pale gold of the glow stick. “I’m able to mend the holes, but not the armor. That will need a professional touch.”

“You’re a professional touch,” Jack muttered, and Gabriel barked a laugh. He suddenly stiffened, and Jack sat up straighter. “Gabe?”

“I need to focus on this,” Gabriel said and continued to repair the holes. It worried him how quickly they fell back into old patterns. They couldn’t repeat the mistakes of the past and he didn’t want to make new ones. He was tired, too.

Jack took the cue and sat quietly, simply leaning against Gabriel’s back, occasionally gained a jab in the ribs from sharp elbows. After the third poke, though, the elbow was rounder and less painful.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but Jack had fallen asleep leaning against him. Gabriel quietly draped the 76 jacket over his shoulder and Jack shook himself awake. 

Jack took the jacket and rotated it in his hands, then flipped it over to feel the repairs. “I can hardly feel the difference,” he said quietly and ran his fingertips over the small of the back. He could feel a ridge when he scraped his thumbnail over it, but the patch was just as supple and soft as the leather. He stood up, exhaling sharply at the now familiar pain, to haul the jacket back on. While he was grateful for the warmth, he immediately missed Gabriel’s presence behind him. Gabriel was a safe spot in the unknown darkness.

“What did I do to you when I shot you?” Gabriel asked quietly from the ground, and Jack turned and held his hand out. Gabriel let him haul him up.

“It’s nothing,” Jack said quietly. “I’m just old, that’s all.”

Gabriel quickly ghosted behind Jack and put his hands on his back before Jack could pull away. After a moment, he clicked his tongue, “it’s a nanite mass. The shot must have been deflected by the armor in your jacket, and your healing ability spread it out and killed it.”

“Always did have a good immune system,” Jack mused. “I’m actually getting used to it. Thinking of naming it Nanny McNanite face.”

“Goofball,” Gabriel sighed. “Sonics can remove it. Or it can be reactivated and wicked away. Angie should be able to do both.”

They both stood in silence, Gabriel’s hands on Jack’s waist, his thumbs working circles on the mass.

Jack could feel the entire mass moving as one piece. He was worried it was going to heal into his skin, a hazard of his SEP healing factor. How many times did they have to dig the bullets out, or put a biotic mesh between muscle and bone to keep them from healing together? Several of his scars were surgical in nature.

“I didn’t want to involve her,” Jack said quietly. He pulled his visor back on just to have something to do with his hands.

“Too scared to face a tiny Swiss woman?” Gabriel mused, and laughed at Jack’s scoffing noise. “You know she’ll help. After scolding you.”

“Ana and I had the same conversation. She misses us,” Jack said quietly. “She misses you.”

“A pretty lie.” Gabriel turned Jack to face him, and lifted Jack’s hand to his face. “I forget to be human, sometimes,” he admitted in a rush. “But, around you...” He let his voice trail off.

Jack carefully reached for the mask.

Gabriel gripped Jack's wrist out of reflex, but let Jack pull it off; Jack couldn’t see it properly. He could feel his mouth was too wide, his nose too hollow.

Jack tenderly touched Gabriel’s cheek. The only thing he could see was a half-image on the low-light sensor, but it must have been broken. No one had that many eyes, right?

As Jack trailed his hand over Gabriel’s face, the scars closed before he touched them, only to reopen once his fingertips passed. 

Gabriel’s nose filled out, his eyes settled in their place, and his ears sat where they were supposed to. He let Jack press their foreheads together.

“I miss us, too, Jackie,” Gabriel said quietly. “I haven’t felt this human in ages.”

“Come with us,” Jack asked quietly. “I don’t know what happened to turn you into this thing that you’ve become, but, Angie can help.”

“No, Jackie,” Gabriel said quietly.

“What, afraid of a tiny Swiss woman?” Jack asked in a hopeful tone.

“Why are you beeping?” Gabriel asked, deliberately changing the conversation.

Jack reached up and tapped on his communicator. “Bastet is on her way, she found a way through the catacombs.” He could hear rustling and assumed Gabriel had pulled his mask back on. 

When he reached forward, all he felt was a retreating chill.

“Gabe?” he asked quietly.

Gabriel’s voice surrounded Jack. “Go with Ana. We’ll meet again later.” 

Jack didn’t know where he went, but he was suddenly standing alone. Even the glow stick’s light was gone.

After a few moments he heard a tapping, then a crack from the wall. With an eruption of dust the blockage wedged in one of the old doors fragmented. Large chunks were shoved inside, along with wave after wave of dust, and the air filter in Jack’s mask almost shut down. 

“Old man!” Bastet snapped, and Jack turned to the light source shoved into the room. “Get on the robo-camel. We’re leaving.”

“You brought Farouk?” he asked as he let Ana help him over the rubble. It was hard to hear her at first over the cracking and tumbling stones.

“My name is Farouk and I am out of my designated area!” the robo-camel announced. “Let’s get back to the main lines of traffic so you don’t miss any exciting destinations!”

“I didn’t know how far down you were and I wasn’t looking forward to hauling your ass up so many stairs,” Ana said with a sigh. “Come on, we’re running the meter.”

Jack let her help him onto the robo-camel, and they were off.

That night, as Ana sipped her tea, she felt a chill. “You ate my ful the other day, didn’t you, Gabi?” she asked quietly.

“I needed a pick-me-up,” Gabriel said softly as he materialized into the room. “Is he sleeping?”

So, he _was_ the one who put Jack to bed earlier in the week. “He’s an old man who needs his rest.” She took a long sip, then gestured to the cot beside her.

Jack was resting quietly, head turned away from the light of the heater.

Reaper watched him breathe for a few moments, then turned back to Ana. “I just came to make sure you two were leaving,” he said in a quieter voice. “Things are going to get a little upset around here once you release the information you have on Hakim.” He held out a small envelope and a travel bag. 

Ana put her tea down and examined the envelope first. “So, we’re a married couple again?” she asked as she looked at the passports and associated documents. They were good at pretending marriage, at least. “Did you hear about the recall?”

“I caused it, so, yeah, I heard.” He stood in the middle of the room, unsure what else to say or do.

Jack lay quietly, his breathing slow and even in the silence.

“Trust no one,” Gabriel eventually warned, then scowled at himself. He didn’t want Jack and Ana to get involved in Overwatch again, but he knew he couldn’t stop them. And he knew he wouldn’t. “Talon runs deeper than we knew.”

“Not even Winston?” Ana asked, and Gabriel scoffed a little.

“Maybe trust the monkey.” He scowled under his mask. "I don't know how far the corruption went, but Winston is honest."

Ana grinned at him, and when Jack stirred, she stood and hauled the blanket up his shoulder some more. “You should get going. It’s good to see you when you’re not shooting at us.”

Gabriel stepped backwards and faded away.

After a moment Jack sighed and sat up a little. “And?” he asked quietly.

“I’ve got a new hijab, and you’ve got an ‘old white man on vacation’ outfit,” Ana said as she rooted through the bag. The veil was cream with azure trim and soft as butter. Gabriel had picked stylish, lovely things for her. “Good thing you’re going in as a blind man because your taste is terrible.” She held up the Hawaiian shirt, covered with images of toast and peanut butter jars. 

Jack reached over and felt it. “Oh, feels nice. When are we leaving?” He secretly hoped he was getting cargo shorts, but he knew Gabriel would never buy him cargo shorts.

Ana checked the tickets again. “First thing in the morning. Get some rest, Jack, we’ve got a busy day.”

Gabriel watched as they both settled down, then faded deeper into the coming night.


End file.
